“Does it?” He planted a kiss on the top of her head. “We can’t both be right.”
“Yes, we can.” She raised bright eyes to him. “Niels Bohr’s complementarity principle states that two concepts can appear to be mutually exclusive and yet both can be true. After all, light is both a particle and a wave.”
“Both speech and silence.”
Light filled her eyes, silently speaking to him.
He kissed her, and his heart illuminated within him.
It sounded divine.
37
COPENHAGEN
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER29, 1943
At a table in the institute’s journal room, Else sorted through the limited supply of periodicals.
After the occupation, the only journals available in Denmark came from Germany and the occupied territories—and all were constrained by Nazi censorship.
“Hello, Else.” Laila Berend stood in the doorway.
“Laila?” Her roommate had barely spoken to her in the past two weeks, she’d never visited the institute, and she looked pale and frazzled. A chill prickled down Else’s spine. “What’s wrong?”
Laila’s mouth pinched. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me, but I sincerely hope I can trust you. I need copies. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Her friend had always had a tendency toward the dramatic. “Life and death?”
Laila sat across from Else and shoved a portfolio toward her. “Tonight Rosh Hashanah begins. This morning at the synagogue service, Rabbi Melchior announced that on October 1—this Friday night—the Germans will arrest all the Jews in Denmark and deport them to concentration camps.”
The news slammed into Else’s gut. “No...”
“He heard it from a reliable source. The Nazis chose this Fridaybecause it’s the Sabbath right after Rosh Hashanah. Everyone will still be home with family and easy to round up.”
A sour taste filled Else’s mouth. How cold-blooded and cynical.
Laila’s fingers splayed out on the portfolio. “We have to warn as many people as possible. We have so little time.”
Just over forty-eight hours, and Else’s mind reeled with the immensity of the task. The impossibility. “What can we do?”
“We were told to warn everyone to go into hiding and to ask our Christian friends if we could stay with them.”
“You can stay—” What was she saying? Else and Laila already lived together. The Germans would come to the boardinghouse. “My grandparents—they’ll take you in.”
“Their house isn’t that big. I have aunts, uncles, in-laws...” Laila’s face contorted, and her eyes shimmered.
Else winced. Not only was she presuming on her grandparents’ hospitality and courage, but they could house only four—eight if they squeezed. “I’ll call and ask.”
Laila glanced at the door, and her chest heaved. “There are thousands of us.”
Else could think of several at the institute, and she wrestled the immensity of the task into concrete steps. “We need to spread the word. We need to tell Jews to go into hiding and ask Christians to open their homes.”
Laila patted the portfolio. “The stencil inside is for a flyer stating just that. Can you make copies?”
Else took the portfolio. “Right away.”
“If you hear of anyone with a larger home...”
